Through the heart of Patagonia . r made a more perfect phrase thanthe incommunicable thrill of tilings. A wood-scent in themorning, the sound of the wind at nigiit, the clear cinders of thefire or a whiff of burning wood—one receives the spark that firesthe train of thought and leads us far away. No indolence of thesoul this, but the fulfilling of some beautiful law at the junctionof the spiritual and the natural, infused through a thousandtissues and welded by a thousand heredities. . One writesmuch of this kind of thing, for, afar from all books or chanceof interchanging ideas, one falls bac
Through the heart of Patagonia . r made a more perfect phrase thanthe incommunicable thrill of tilings. A wood-scent in themorning, the sound of the wind at nigiit, the clear cinders of thefire or a whiff of burning wood—one receives the spark that firesthe train of thought and leads us far away. No indolence of thesoul this, but the fulfilling of some beautiful law at the junctionof the spiritual and the natural, infused through a thousandtissues and welded by a thousand heredities. . One writesmuch of this kind of thing, for, afar from all books or chanceof interchanging ideas, one falls back upon oneself and ones penis a safe outlet for superfluous imaginings. On that afternoon I cau^rht a horse and went down to the lon<- 126 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA point that stretches out into the lake. Although this was a rideof upwards of twenty miles, 1 saw no living thing upon the land,and on the water only a couple of grebes and three upland way lav throuoh dense thickets of low growth, the ojoinir. LAKE BUKNOS AIKKS very sandy and treacherous. The high-water mark, or, as I shouldrather say, the flood-mark of the lake was outlined by piles andpiles of driftwood of milk-toothlike whiteness. Some of the trunkswere as large in girth as my body. All this comes down fromthe mountain forests, carried by torrents from the melting vegetation on that side of the lake was the most florid andsizeable that I had so far seen in Patacronia. Hii^h flowerinofgrass, thorn-bush thickets almost impenetrable, and between theseand the margin of the water a wide strewintr of rotten trunks ofantarctic beech and poles of an arborescent grass-like my way back I made a short cut through the edge of the lake,of which the bed was shinijlv. THE KINGDOM OF THE WINDS 127 November 13.—I went to the River Fenix and shot a fuanacoAfterwards I took a six-mile walk and shot two snipe. LakeBuenos Aires was certainly the very heart of the winds we were t
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